Bad fucking idea
by Creativeandweird
Summary: This is the story of Punk and her short time as a member of Gorillaz. (Murdoc x OC)
1. Prologue

**Very important disclaimer.**

I do not claim any of the behavior of the characters in this story to be good or healthy, and I would not in a million years recommend to anyone to act or think the way they do. The relationships between the characters in this story can be considered unhealthy and even abusive.

Furthermore, the opinions expressed by Murdoc and Punk do not necessarily represent my own.

 **Prologue**

Larry Garrison, a music journalist from a rather unknown Canadian magazine for hip hop music, pushed his slightly toned glasses up the bridge of his nose as he checked once again whether the audio was recording, before glancing again at the funky looking group of four people that sat on the leather sofa in front of him. He leaned back in his seat. "So when did you decide that the Gorillaz needed a rhythmic guitarist?"

Murdoc Niccals, the founder of this uprising band, lit himself a new cigarette, showing his shark teeth in a grin as his heterochromic eyes detected the "No smoking" sign, that actually only hung there to provoke the interviewees anyway. He cleared his throat with a disgusting sound before answering. "Y'know, uh, Garry Larrison..."

"Larry Garrison", Larry corrected him calmly. This did not happen for the first time.

"We never really did decide that beforehand", Niccals went on without paying any attention to his mistake. "We just saw Punk in that pub one night, doing this solo performance with her guitar, and I just thought, uh... That chick looks embarrassing as hell when she's up there all alone, you'd, you know, have to hide her in a band to make that guitar sound rad."

Larry unwillingly raised an eyebrow. It sounded like a weird excuse to him. And he could not look over the fact that in the music videos the band had released since the American girl Camille Morstan a.k.a. "Punk" had joined the band, he had noticed not only that she was a good guitarist, but also that she was barely twenty, skinny, had a grown up, pretty face and looked overall quite attractive. Well, at least if you liked mohawks, lots of piercings and an alternative style, which Larry did not doubt that Murdoc did. "May I ask where Punk is today?"

Stuart Pot, also known as 2D, singer and frontman of the band, even though in Larry's opinion way too shy for that role, breathed in to answer, but Murdoc would not let him. "She couldn't make it." For a second, something about his voice sounded harsher than usual. "Anyway, one of us, I think it was 2D, had the idea that our music could use some depth after all, so after her performance I went up to her all nicely and..."

"He told her her music was shitty", Russel Hobbs, the drummer, explained ill-humouredly. "And that she probably was the result of a broken condom. That she was a failure who had just embarrassed herself in front of a whole crowd, and that he had been cringing the whole time because her performance was so bad. And that her only chance of becoming anything more than garbage was to join his band."

Larry felt his face going cold as he saw that innocent and absolutely not innocent smile appearing on Murdoc's lips. What a sympathetic fellow that guy was.  
"Luckily, Punk wasn' really impressed", 2D explained in his high voice, that seemed to be always breaking, even though he had probably gotten out of puberty years ago. "Actually, she said dat she would've joined Gorillaz wif or wifout dat weird introduction."

"Unnecessary, but fun", Murdoc said, flicking his cigarette to the other end of the room, leaving a stain of ashes on the wallpaper.

* * *

Hi guys, hope you liked the prologue. If you decide on reading further, consider leaving me a review so I know what you think.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Hey Punk." 2D leaned back from the passenger seat of the band van, offering her some of the mint chocolate he had bought at the last gas station. A big, kind grin appeared on his admittedly quite pretty face and exposed the kind of cute gap where his front teeth would usually be as she broke a piece off the candy bar.

A rude slap against the back of her hand made Punk jump and she let out a little scream of pain. The chocolate flew out of her hand and was caught by the little Asian girl that sat next to her.  
Noodle, who was so small that Punk could not help but think that she actually still needed a booster seat – even though apparently none of the other band members had come to that thought by now – gazed at her provocatively. Undoubtedly she did not really have a thing for Punk.

She was probably secretly scared of being replaced by the new, older guitarist, even though there was absolutely no chance of that ever happening to Punk. Noodle played better than her, and everyone of the guys looked at her with so much affection and will to protect her that Punk was sure each of them would kill for her without any hesitation. Even Murdoc, though he made sure the little girl did not notice.

Oh, speaking of Murdoc. Unlike Punk, Noodle was not a part of the band because its leader wanting to lay her had given her unfair advantages. He tried to make it not too obvious, but it was. Already from the stage during her performance she had noticed the looks that strange satanist was giving her, and when he came to her afterwards she was actually surprised when he offered her a place in his band instead of his phone number or even a quickie in the bathroom right away. But he did not, and Punk was happy about the opportunity the lucky instance of some freakish lewd bass player finding her hot had given her. Before he told her a little bit about them she had no idea who the Gorillaz were, but once she listened to a few of their songs she was thrilled by the diversity and incredible intensity of their music. And she did not even really like hip hop usually. Her preferred genre was – surprise, surprise:

"Punk." Russel, who had dozed off leaning against one of the windows of the van and had been awoken by the loud clap of Noodles fingers on Punks hand, looked at her with sleepy, but observant eyes. "D'ya even wanna be called that? We can just call ya by ya birth name, ya know. Camille, right?".  
She shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, Camille, but Punk is fine. I like Punk." First of all, it fit her big, dark brown mohawk and music preference, and second of all it was a lot better than Noodle or the nickname Murdoc had suggested to give her. _Camilletoe._ No thanks.

Murdoc glanced at her through the rear mirror for a second before looking out of the front window again, and she could see at his eyes that he was grinning facetiously. He knew exactly what she was thinking. "Alright, kids", he said with that nasal voice that supposedly a million cigarettes had raspened. "We're here." He put one arm around the passenger seat to look back to Punk. His eyes glowed with enthusiasm and he sticked out his long, pointy tongue way over his chin. "Y'nervous, Camilletoe?"

It actually just really came back to her right now as he said it, but her heart did start to beat faster and blood rushed to her cheeks. Her first gig with the Gorillaz. And they did not even have nearly enough practice hours, even though she, an admirer of the Punk subculture, should not be worried by that. She could not remember when she had ever been properly prepared for any gig in her entire life.  
There was nothing to be nervous about.

Punk swallowed before putting on a crooked grin. "Nah. Are you?...Pickles?"  
And even though she only got a sarcastic slow clap by Noodle and the finger by Murdoc for her mediocre comeback, 2D and Russel actually laughed as they all got out of the van.

They got closer to the bar in front of which already half a dozen people stood, smoked and drank, and Murdoc put his wiry arm around Punks just as wiry shoulders and grinned at her once more from the side. "Well here we go, Camilletoe."  
"Dat rhymed", 2D noted happily as they went inside.

"Okay, that was fucking awesome." Punk's sweat-covered skin sticked uncomfortably to the old leather sofa that stood in the community room in Kong Studio. The air in the bar had been incredibly smokey and warm, and it heated up even more when they started playing. People loved the Gorillaz. That band had a big future, she just started to completely grasp that now. Who knew, maybe joining them was the best decision she had ever made.

Russel had gotten into the shower the minute they got back, probably so he would not stick to the couch like Punk did, and she could still hear the water rushing and his deep voice singing some song from the 50s. 2D had fallen into the old, dusty armchair across the room and started snoring, Noodle jumped on the backrest and silently started braiding his hair.

"Budge up, won't cha." Murdoc got from the kitchen and with a deep groan sank into the sofa next to Punk. He left almost a meter of distance between them, which she found quite comfortable. Without a word he gave her one of the bottles of beer he had brought, while holding the other one against his meager yet from years of holding a heavy bass muscular chest to cool it.

Punk had had some booze earlier at the bar, but as much as she had seen him chug down would probably have instantly sent her to the hospital. Considering that he seemed applaudably controlled.

"We were bloody damn ace", he confirmed before lighting himself a cigarette and letting out a second groan. "Exhausting concert though." He exhaled smoke. "My back hurts. I'm getting too old for this shit."

"You're what, thirty-seven?", Punk raised an eyebrow. "Less drugs I suggest."

An irritated look appeared on his face and he wrinkled his nose. "I'm thirty-two, but thanks love. And seriously?"

She shrugged. "Whatever, I'm not your mama. Can I get one?" She nodded to the box of cigarettes.

The annoyed expression disappeared as quickly as it had come and he grinned, exposing his shark-like teeth that scared her just as much as they amazed her. He stubbed out his cigarette on the leather of the sofa. "Y'know what, I've got something better."

"Something better" turned out to be pot. Quite good pot though, as she could smell when he opened the little plastic bag to pour some onto a paper.

Doubtingly Punk pointed over at Noodle with her chin. "Dude, we can't have a joint with a ten year old in the room."

"Hell, you're right. Russ would kill us. Well, me, he thinks he's too classy to hit a chick." Like he was over a hundred years old he got up, stretched his stiff, creaking limbs and walked over to Noodle. "Hey, um, kid. Would you mind going to bed? Uncle Mudz and Punk wanna do adult stuff, y'know."

One of the little girl's eyebrows jumped up her big forehead and Punk's palm hit her own. "Maybe just a little bit more ambiguous?"

"Oh. Heh." He grunted amusedly. "Nah, we're not gonna fuck, girl. We're just doing drugs."

Punk facepalmed again. "Not getting better."

"Whatever, let's just hope I'll never make the mistake to become a father, right? Anyway. C'mon, kid. Go to bed."

The little Japanese girl shaked her head stubbornly and without a word showed him 2D's hair that she was not quite done braiding yet.  
"Oh. I see. That's easy."

2D woke up with a faint scream of pain when Murdoc rudely knocked against the back of his head with his palm. "Whuut?", he whined. "Did I snore or sumfink? I, I'm sorry..."

"Take that pain in the arse to bed", Murdoc interrupted him harshly. "Punk and I wanna smoke."

"Why d'you always..."

"Just shut your cockhole and fuck off, alright Faceache?"

Yammering complaints about how he had been hit for no reason and how Murdoc was always so, so mean the blue haired boy lifted Noodle off her chair, put her on his slender shoulders and disappeared upstairs with her.

Murdoc sat back on the sofa and sighed deeply. "Satan, what a whiny little bitch."

"Dude, you are such an asshole towards him. If I were you I'd be careful. One day you're gonna overstep the line, and then you can look for a new frontman."

"Eh, maybe you're not even wrong about that." The bass player shrugged as he started rolling a spliff. His long fingers that reminded her a little bit of claws where shaking, and after a while of watching him fail she took paper, weed and filter to finish it. She leaned forward to reach the fire he lit for her with the cigarette between her lips and immediately noted his eyes wandering down her despite her skinny figure more or less presentable cleavage. Goddammit, that guy was so easy. Even though she would lie to say that she was not provoking him at least a little bit, just to see if he was still giving her those looks. He was.  
She blew out smoke, coughed a little and then passed him the spliff.

Silently he took it and inhaled deeply. "How old are you?", Murdoc breathed out, laying back in the sofa until he was looking at the ceiling.

"Nineteen."

"Interesting."

Punk raised an eyebrow as she reached for her bottle. Her throat was starting to itch as it often did when she was smoking weed. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Just wondering. Just thought it would be weird of you to hit on me like that if you were underage."

She almost choked on her beer. _"Excuse me?"_

"Oh, come on." He rolled his eyes. "You don't have to pretend to be a tease, y'know. A woman can be just as underfucked as a man. It's fine, you want my cock. That's nothing to be ashamed of, my dear."

She laughed out loud, but it sounded a little too hysterical. Blood rushed to her cheeks, which she decided to blame the weed for. That guy was nuts. The alcohol made him way too confident. "Okay, sorry to break this to you, but not everyone wants your dick", Punk informed him, wiping beer from her chin and sitting up on the sofa. Suddenly she felt really uncomfortable. Was that his plan? Getting her high and then trying to make his move?

"Not everyone", he confirmed amusedly. "But you. You are hitting on me. You were during your stage performance, and you were right now when you basically sticked your lovely little tits in my face." His pink tongue appeared between his teeth and licked over his lip.

"You're _disgusting!_ " She was almost yelling now, and her voice was unsteady, mainly from the alcohol though.

"Murdoc, ya leave the lady alone right now or I'm coming for ya", Russel shouted a warning from upstairs. "He harassing ya, Camille?"

"It's fine, thanks Russ", she answered, fixating Murdoc's face with a piercing gaze. One word and she would have the bulky drummer break his wonky nose for the sixth time, and he knew that. His eyes narrowed.

Then his face relaxed again and he sighed. "Alright, you know what? I approached this the wrong way. I need to take a piss anyway, and I think I'm gonna honk up in a bit. G'night." He bowed totteringly before disappearing to the bathroom, and Punk stayed on the sofa, confused and irritated.


	3. Chapter 2

"Can ya pass me the milk please", 2D asked timidly across the table.

"Fuck you", Murdoc answered.

It were the first words to be spoken after they all had sat down at the table in the kitchen. Before that there had been absolute silence, that was caused mainly by the fact that none of them really wanted to be here.

Punk had woken up at one pm from 2D screaming in panic, because Noodle, who woke up first, was bored and decided to climb up the wires in the elevator shaft. When he finally convinced her to come down he had already woken up the whole house, and while Murdoc was saying things to her not even the worst hangover could possibly excuse, Russel, who except for the now equally pissed off Noodle was the only one without a hangover, decided to remind the others that according to their calendar, today was rehearsal day.  
"You know what day it is, it's Fuck-you-Russel-day!", Murdoc complained while taking a pen and furiously scratching the note in the calendar he had left there himself just a few days ago.

"Ya might wanna repeat that", Russel said loudly and bent down closely to the bassist's ear.

He surrendered immediately. "Okay, okay, just don't fucking yell at me, it feels like my head has been run over by a fucking bus. Bloody hell man." The number of swearwords in his sentences was notably higher than usual, which really said something.

So now they were all sitting at the breakfast table, equally tired, and stared into their coffee mugs.

Punk grabbed the milk carton and passed it to 2D. He smiled crookedly.

Thinking about it she couldn't remember him even drinking that much yesterday either. She did see him taking pills every few hours since she had joined the band though, and everytime the package said something else. Sleeping pills, antidepressants, even something against ADHD. No wonder that boy's brain was always so fuzzy.

Murdoc picked up a piece of toast and looked at it. For a few seconds everyone at the table watched him in suspense whether he was actually going to eat it, but then he just sticked his tongue out, gagged and threw it behind himself.

Actually Punk was glad they were all so hungover. That way she did not have to talk to Mr You-want-my-meat yet. She still needed time to decide whether he was a narcissistic, perverted asshole she would stay away from after yesterday, or... well. Or if he was a narcissistic, perverted asshole she would proceed to become friends with.

For it was true: He was one of the most fucked up bastards she had ever met. But he was also hilarious and fun to talk to, and so gross and careless she could not help but feel fascinated by him. Which probably made her the second most fucked up person she knew.  
And he's not completely wrong either, is he?, a little, mean voice in the back of her head whispered.

"Oh, fuck off." When she realized she had said that out loud it was too late.

"Whut did I do now again?!", 2D whined desperately.

Punk cleared her throat. "Nothing. Guess I'm still asleep."

Murdoc's head slid off his hand he had placed it in and hit the table with a loud bang. A second later he snored into the coffee puddle his face was laying in.

Russ pushed back his chair and rose. "Looks like ya not alone with that. Alright, let's get started. In case you've forgotten, we have an appointment to film a music video next week. And we all know we ain't prepared."

It was already evening when Punk walked up the stairs in Kong Studio. She had started at the basement, where they had been practicing, and right now she was at the fourth floor. Only five more to go to get to the roof. Her thighs and butt were burning since the third one, and her armpits were starting to feel sweaty, but she did not stop. It was her workout for this week.

Punk herself was not entirely sure why she suddenly was so motivated – she had barely done any sports in months – but she was positive it had something to do with today's rehearsal with the others.

When they had gotten down in their practice hall after breakfast they had all been about as motivated as for going to a funeral, when they all had grabbed their instruments 2D stretched his back, during the first songs Punk started to smile and Russel stopped ignoring everyone, and at half past three Murdoc allowed Noodle to punch him once to make up for the things he said earlier. What he probably had not expected was that she would throw him against a wall.

Punk was surprised at how quickly the mood had improved, and how much fun it had been to play.

Afterwards they had ordered pizza and, while sitting on the thin carpet and barely being able to talk over their mouthfuls of melted cheese, compared the horny skin everyone had from holding their instrument.

She smiled through the pain in her muscles. This group she had gotten into was not so bad at all.

"Oi!… Camilletoe…!"

Oh, right. There kind of was an exception in the band who definitely was _so bad_ and, moreover, apparently following her.

Panting like an old pug and dramatically clinging on to the handrail like he was drowning Murdoc came around the corner and closer to her, and only slowed down when he saw that she stopped to wait for him. "For the love of sweet Satan!", he gasped while with way too much routine taking off his sweaty black shirt and carelessly throwing it behind himself. "Kong Studio has a perfectly functioning lift! What the bloody fucking hell makes you wanna climb up all these fucking stairs?"

Punk shrugged. "Exercising. Guess I don't wanna end up like some other people. How long have you been following me?"

"Since the first floor. And 'some other people'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that you can't even go up a few stairs without almost having a heart attack, old man."

Murdoc wrinkled his nose over her impudence of which she herself did not know where it was even coming from. During the rehearsal they had gotten along quite well – they had not really been having a conversation, but after chewing almost a handful of pills that were definitely not only aspirin the bassist for a solid minute had not been able to stop praising her little riff she had come up with spontaneously to the skies, which had actually made her laugh and blush at the same time. The air between the two of them should have cleared a little bit.

He leaned against the handrail and crossed his arms behind his head, trying to get his breath back. "Should you really be telling me I'm not in shape while staring at my abs at the same time?"

Oh, shit. Punk flinched and forced herself to take her eyes off his torso. She was not sure whether it was the weird, pink nipples, the way too visible ribs, the under zero fat quite defined muscles or the pubic hair that grew out of his pants all the way up to his bellybutton, but something about it was extremely distracting.

A hand ruggedly patted her shoulder and Murdoc burst out in laughter. "Take it easy, you're not the only one. I once met Paul McCartney, and I swear I saw him drool a little."

"And then you decided to steal his hairstyle?" Punk grinned. "Why are you always topless anyway? I think the times I saw you in a shirt I can count on one hand."

"Okay, first of all, I'm always warm. And second of all, it's called _artistic nudity_."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded ironically, but could not hold back an amused grin. "Oh. Sure." Slowly she started walking upstairs again, just in the right speed so Murdoc was able to follow her without breaking out in a death rattle.

"Just curious, how far up do you intend to go? I don't know how much of the building you've seen so far, but there's barely anything in the last floors. Most of the rooms are empty."

"I wanna get to the roof", Punk explained. "I haven't been outside the whole day."

He uttered a disapproving grunt.

"What?", she asked over her shoulder because he had already gotten behind again.

"All that self care shit is so bloody overrated. Exercising, getting fresh air, all that shite. Destructive behaviour for the win. Goes down better with the ladies, for some reason they just can't get enough of it. Y'know what would be self care for me? Snorting meth out of the asscrack of some HIV-infected prostitute while getting a blowjob by her."

Punk wanted to resist, but she just could not help but let out a disgusted giggle. She turned around and, letting the handrail guide her, walked up the stairs backwards so she could look at him. "First of all, so gross. Second of all, isn't crystal meth something you _smoke?_ "

Under his thick fringe she could see one of his eyebrows rising. "Don't try to teach me about drugs, love."

"Okay, fair enough. Thirdly, I usually don't really give a shit about self care either. I just start to feel trapped when I'm inside for too long."

Murdoc sighed deeply. "If you really wanna get out, I have a roofless truck standing in my garage. Jump in and we can drive around the city, you can feel the wind in your hair and all that sorts of shit, and we'll have a few drinks and maybe come back to the conversation we had yesterday night." He giggled.

Oh no. And she had hoped he had forgotten and they could just pretend that never happened. Maybe she could just act like she did not remember? "What do you mean?"

One of those typical raspy, lewd Murdoc-sounds came out from deep down in his throat. "The one about you lusting after me. Y'know, maybe, if you're nice, I'd even be willing to deliver."

Punk stopped so suddenly she could hear him stumble in order to not run into her. She felt heat spreading in her cheeks once again, and this time she decided to blame her anger for it. "Can I not have one normal conversation with you without you telling me to sleep with you?"

"No, no, you misunderstand", he moved his hands in a manner that he probably thought would mollify her. It did not. "I'm not telling you to sleep with me, I'm saying you _want_ to sleep with me. Whether you actually do it is your own decision, even though I'd highly recommend it."

She clenched her fists. "You are so… so…!" For some reason the part of her brain that was responsible for swearwords and insults and that was usually working on high speed, let her down this time. And what added up on her anger was that Murdoc laughed.

"Yeah? You were saying?"

"I – fucking hell man! Who would wanna sleep with _you_ anyway?" And with those words that she herself realized were a childish overreaction she ran up the stairs until her lungs were burning.


	4. Chapter 3

Punk, who had spent the evening having a drink with 2D and Russel in the living room, was coming out of the bathroom, getting ready to go to bed when she heard a voice from downstairs.

Murdoc had probably come home from his night out, although she felt like for him it was unusually early. One o'clock. Was he already too drunk to stay out any longer?

Then there was the sound of a woman laughing, and Punk cringed, sticking her tongue out in disgust. Oh, great. He had picked up someone.  
And when she realized they were getting out of the elevator and walking in her direction it was already too late to run away and hide, although that was exactly what she wanted to do right now.

"So then that nob was all like 'Oi Mister, you can't do _that_ in a place like _this_ '", Murdoc slurred. You could hear the alcohol in his voice. "... and I realized I was in the canteen of the local primary school, that I was probably more busted than I thought, and that I had just ruined those kids' appetite."

Again his words were followed by female laughter, then they came around the corner and Punk suddenly stood in front of her band mate, who was shirtless, completely drunk and shamelessly grabbing the asses of two young women – one at his right, one at his left.

They were not even unattractive. Tall, with pretty ample features, quite revealing clothes and long hair. Jesus, where did this gross zombie find women who were so hot, but had so little self respect? And two at a time?

"Oh, and that is my charming second guitarist, Camilletoe", Murdoc explained, holding on tightly to the hips of one of the women to regain stability, and with a bottle of booze casually pointing in Punk's direction, and suddenly she felt their judging eyes burning into her skin.

She was home on a Saturday evening, wearing a faded, oversized T-Shirt Russel had given her that revealed her legs that really needed to be shaved again, with an unkempt mohawk that sadly stood in any direction but upwards, a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth.

Punk felt her muscles tensing up.  
"Fuck off", was the only thing that came to her mind as she stood there, wishing that the ground would open and swallow her up.

"...charming indeed", one of the women commented, before trying to get the bottle out of Murdoc's hand. He was not letting go though, and it sparked the most ridiculous, oversexualized fight she had ever seen. And, surprise surprise, it ended in the two of them making out like there was no one except for the two of them and the other chick, whose boob Murdoc grabbed just so she would know he was not forgetting her.

Punk did not now what to do, so she decided to just stand there and stick up her middle finger. She really wanted to get upstairs to go to her room, but they were blocking the elevator, and she really did not want to get any closer to them. This situation was already awkward enough.

"Hey..." Murdoc unsticked from the woman and burped indiscreetly. "Pardon me. What's with that bad mood, love? Come on join us, the more the better, eh?" He came closer to Punk, grinned endearingly and spread out his arms, probably feeling like the god of generosity.  
Just one step further, she thought as she clenched fists and teeth. One step further and I'm gonna kill him.

"Dear? Camilletoe?" And then he went one step further.

 _Stay away from me, you disgusting, motherfucking bastard!_ She wanted to spit toothpaste in his face and yell so loudly everyone at Kong Studio could hear her. She wanted to vigorously push Murdoc directly into the arms of his two chicks so they would go down with him like the last pins in a really good bowling match. She wanted to laugh at them. Then she would rush through them, "accidentally" step on Murdoc's fingers and enjoy the ugly little grunt of pain he would utter. Without further looking at any of them she would get into the elevator and press the 4.

But instead Punk decided otherwise. She took the toothbrush out of her mouth, cleared her throat, casually leaned against the door frame of the bathroom and with all her willforce brought the most layed-back, joyful smile humanly possible on her face.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks though. Have fun, you three." Her smile deepened even further and she pointed at him with finger guns. "Murdoc, hit me up if you need condoms, alright?" She winked at both of the ladies before getting into the elevator, pressing the 4 and waving at them one last time. "Good night."  
The disappointed look on Murdoc's face was ten times more satisfying than all the spitting, screaming, pushing and kicking could ever have been.


	5. Chapter 4

The next day around noon Punk sat at the table in the kitchen, eating her cereal while watching the Simpsons on the old tube TV that stood on one of the shelves when Murdoc, only wearing a pair of ugly red briefs, entered the room. He looked awfully tired and, surprise, hungover, and he dragged a slight smell of sweat and other body fluids behind himself that drifted all the way over to Punk. She wrinkled her nose.

He moaned while stretching his crooked back before pouring himself some coffee and leaning against the kitchen counter. "Morning."

Without taking her eyes from the screen she nodded. "Morning."

Murdoc scratched his armpit with his long, pointy fingernails before letting out a little, coughing laugh. "Hope you guys didn't hear us yesterday. Man, those babes were _kinky_. Like _reeeally_ screwed up in a good way, I can barely walk..."

"I only heard something like once or twice, don't worry." That was a brazen lie. Which mainly had to do with the fact that, while usually sleeping in his van down in the basement garage, yesterday he had chosen one of the rooms just one floor under hers. The annoying voices of those two chicks were still ringing in her ears, Murdoc himself she had not heard a single time though. Maybe he had not been enjoying himself as much as he wanted to make her believe now. The thought had something satisfying to it.

She slurped some of the milk out of her bowl. "Hey, my toast is done, can you pass it to me?"

"You didn't feel left out yesterday, did you?", Murdoc probed, ignoring her request. The hope in his voice made her struggle to not roll her eyes.

"No, no worries. I found out 2D was still awake and we watched a Guy Richie movie together, even though he fell asleep halfway-"

"I mean I even _asked_ you to join us, love", he interrupted her.

Jesus. "Yes, and I kindly refused because I had no desire to join you." With all her willforce she managed to keep her voice calm and friendly.

Murdoc looked at her like he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she admitted what he wanted to hear. "I mean, that was some A plus nookie I had yesterday, you know. It's not like, you know, you didn't miss out on anything. Um – what are you doing?" His eyes got bigger as she got up to stand right in front of him.

"Getting my toast because apparently you refuse to. Move, you're blocking the toaster."

He did not move a single centimeter. "What's wrong with you?"

How had she never noticed how annoying this dude could be. "Nothing! Toast!"

"There is clearly something with you", Murdoc insisted and the desire to slam his head against one of the cupboards grew. "Come on, what is it? You know you can tell old Mudz anything, right?" So apparently he was back at being patronizing again.

"Murdoc, everything is fine! Why, is everything fine with you?"

He was definitely getting frustrated. Impatiently he chugged down his coffee and slammed the cup on the table. "Look, love, I might have overstepped some boundaries yesterday. Sorry 'bout that, alright? The fact is though, I was completely bladdered and I probably don't even remember half of the shit I did, and the girls were _incredibly_ hot and, unlike you, not too stubborn to admit that I am a win, so can you _please_ stop behaving like a child?"

Punk laughed out. " _I_ am the one behaving like a child?"

"You are! And you know exactly why! You know what? I don't have to put up with your shite! We'll talk when you got over your bloody jealousy, alright?" He slammed the door, leaving behind a smell of sex and burnt toast.

It took Murdoc until the evening to cope with his defeat and start another attack.

At the time Punk was at the recording studios, smoking a cigarette and playing around on her guitar, scribbling down a few notes every once in a while. Just yesterday 2D had showed her a solo piece he had made on his piano, and it had been inspiring enough for her to write her own. Hanging out with creative folks was amazing.

She was so deeply focused on her song that she only realized Murdoc had entered the room when he suddenly appeared out of nowhere in front of her and pulled her headphones off. Punk escaped a little shriek and she almost hit him with her guitar out of reflex. "Holy shit! You wanna kill me?"

"I said your name three times already, but you didn't react." Murdoc crossed his arms in front of his, yup, still naked chest. He was not yet wearing anything but briefs and for some reason did not look half as frustrated as earlier in the kitchen. Actually the grin on his face seemed as facetious and arrogant as always. Only that this aura around him seemed even darker than usual.

Punk raised an eyebrow and stepped back to lean against one of the desks, because he was standing a little bit too close to her for her liking. "What do you want?"

"You got me this time, dear."

"I don't know what you´re talking about."

Murdoc´s grin became even bigger. "This whole 'I don't care if you fuck other people instead of me'-attitude… I bought it, you know." He took a step towards her. "But you were just provoking me."

" _I_ was provoking _you?_ " Punk laughed out loud before remembering yesterday night again. Unwillingly she clenched her fists. "You brought those chicks almost up to my room, you introduced us even though they obviously didn't give a single fuck who I was and even though you knew I was everything but presentable at the moment, and later you made them scream the whole fucking house down!"

He made a lewd sound. "At least now you know what I can do."

"Can you please focus, you scumbag?" She unintentionally raised her voice, and the fact that Murdoc stayed so completely calm, obviously not taking her serious at all, didn't help much either. "We are fighting right now! And also – I bet they were only so loud because that's what prostitutes are taught to do."

"That's a little rude, don´t cha think?" He seemed only mildly offended. "I didn't pay a single cent for those ladies, it took nothing but a little bit of classic British charm. And why are you so angry anyway?"

That was what she was wondering herself right now. Punk took a deep breath to regain calm again. "To come back to the topic: You were the one provoking me. So it was only fair to use your own weapons against you." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Why don't you just give up this whole trying-to-talk-me-into-it thing already, old man?"

Murdoc took another step in her direction, slowly getting closer again, only this time there was a desk in her back preventing her from fleeing. "Because I've never heard you say it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Say what?"

"'I do not want to fuck you'. Say it and I'm gonna leave you alone, and we can be perfectly asexual band mates." The smile disappeared from his face, and suddenly Murdoc Niccals actually looked serious. Something that surely did not happen often.

Punk's eyes narrowed. "Wait – for real?"

He nodded sincerely. "For real. Would be a waste of time for both of us otherwise, eh?"

"That – that's something I shouldn't have to _say_ ", she hawed, "You'd already have that figured out if you'd payed attention..."

"Don't try to distract", he interrupted. "It's a simple question."

For a moment, they both fell silent and stared at each other.

"… soo?", Murdoc finally asked, elongating the word.

She flinched. "Oh, uh. Right. Decision." The pressure was real.

The bassist with only medium patience gave her a few more seconds, before with what seemed to be sympathy asking: "That hard?"

"I… um." Punk sighed deeply. "Maybe", she admitted. She saw the surprise on his face and immediately felt herself blushing.

"Wait, really?" Murdoc crooked his head skeptically. "Maybe, what? You'd sleep with me?"

Oh damn. She should not have said that. So she just awkwardly shrugged, not able to hold Murdoc's piercing gaze.

"Maybe, what's that supposed to mean? Any, like… conditions, or what?"

She thought for a second. "Well… yeah, actually", she said, mainly trying to not make him take her "maybe" for a "yes". Quick, think of any conditions. "First of all, I'd have to be absolutely hammered to look over your grossness."

He nodded. "Sure. We can go grab a drink right now. It's on me if you want. What else?"

"You'd have to shower", Punk said, looking at his oily hair.

Murdoc stared at her. "You are making it intimidatingly easy."

"You… um… I'd have to be absolutely sure you wouldn't make comments about how you were right all along." He was right about something though. Her so-called conditions were ridiculous – not to mention that giving conditions in the first place was ridiculous too. All that was standing in the room was this fucking "maybe" that she wished so much she could take back. But what should she say instead?

Murdoc's face suddenly had changed its expression in a way she could not define. She did not even know if it was positively or negatively, but if she had one word to describe it it would be resolute. And when he stepped further it was her being intimidated. "Anything else?", he asked.

Punk swallowed. "I don't… think so…?" The wondering undertone was directed to herself.

"So if I did these three things you'd fuck me?" Another step in her direction. Man, he was coming close.

"I...'m… not sure", she answered haltingly. For some reason she had difficulties to look Murdoc in the eyes instead of his thin lips. Her heart started pounding. "What are you doing?", she heard herself whisper as he leaned in.

The lips she had given up not to stare at formed a little, evil smile. "Proving a point." When those lips pressed onto hers she gave in and closed her eyes.

The kiss was relatively gentle for maybe a second, but it was Murdoc after all, and that man did not fuck around. The weird reptile tongue found its way into her mouth, and his hands immediately went for her butt, digging his nails into it and pushing her against the desk.

Punk's brain was pure chaos. Something in the back of her head screamed at her not to let that guy do this, to push him away, kick him in the nuts, to do anything to not lose this fight, but the rest turned into a weird, warm mush that became all tingly when she felt the few stubbles of Murdoc's nonexistent beard scratch against her upper lip and chin, his smokey breath on her face, his hands running up and down her sides and grabbing her by the hips to pull her closer to himself. The only thing she could do was to cling onto the desk behind her and fight his tongue back with her own.

Holy shit.

What was happening.

She had no idea how much time had passed when Murdoc eventually broke off the kiss all of a sudden and stepped back a little bit. It took Punk a moment to catch her breath and slowly get back into her head, but when she looked at him, instant regret that she had just let that happen befell her.

The arrogant grin from before had returned, this time even more scoffing than before. "See?", he asked.

The excited heartbeat and the tingling feeling in her stomach faded. Instead, Punk felt herself tensing up. She had a bad feeling about this. "See what?"

Murdoc giggled. "You're sober, I smell like two different pussies and I'm absolutely not gonna shut up about this. And yet here we are. Shouldn't that make you reconsider your attitude towards me?"

Within a split second Punk felt blood rushing to her cheeks and her face crease into a grimace of anger. When she started talking it was in a relatively normal voice, but she was yelling within seconds. "I can't believe what a _disgusting, miserable, ugly, motherfucking asshole_ you are!" She pushed him harshly against his chest. He was lucky his satanic bass guitar was on the other side of the room, otherwise she probably would have grabbed it to hit him with it.

"Hey, easy love", Murdoc said and stepped towards her, trying to grasp her shoulders to calm her down. "I was just messing around with you, okay?"

Punk slapped his hands away. "Get outta here!", she shouted, and because he just stood there, staring at her like the personified innocence she yelled: " _Get the fuck out of here!_ "

The sound of someone clearing their throat let them both spin round.

Russel was standing in the door frame, a cup of tea in one, drumsticks in the other hand. He often carried them around with him just to drum on anything around him, pots, shelves, sometimes – only gently, and only if the boy was getting on his nerves – 2D's head. Right now though he was looking at the bassist like he was going to go full drum solo on him. How long had he been standing there already? "Any problem between ya two?"

For a long moment nobody said a word. Punk and Murdoc just flashed their eyes at each other, and she actually considered just saying 'yes' and letting Russ do what she rather wanted to do herself.

But instead, Murdoc surrendered in their staring contest and dropped his gaze. "No, it's fine", he said with a voice that showed how not fine it was, before crossing the room, passing Russel and leaving.

Once he was gone Russel raised his eyebrows. "Not judging. But if I were you I'd sure as hell stay away from that guy."

She snorted. Of course he was judging. "And how do you expect me to do that? We're in the same band."

His eyebrows wandered even higher, almost up to where his hairline would probably have started if he did not shave his head. "Oh, ya know what I mean."

Punk tried to fix her mohawk that was standing in every direction. Her cheeks were glowing red and her lips still felt swollen from Murdoc's rough kiss and scratchy beard stubbles. Yep, it probably did not make sense to deny what just happened. She sighed. "I appreciate the concern, Russ, but... I'm not even thinking of-"

"Yeah, I'm not stupid." He sat down behind his drums and interlaced his fingers, and suddenly he looked uncomfortably serious and… worried. "Don't do it, Camille. Others've made the mistake, they all regret it. Ask Stu's exgirlfriend. And girlfriend at the time."

She grimaced, although it did not really surprise her. That truly did sound like Murdoc.

Russel's look was penetrating. "It ain't worth it. He ain't worth it."

"Well what I do and who I kiss is my decision, so mind your own business."

Russel's eyes widened in surprise over the sudden harshness of her tone, and Punk herself was not entirely sure where is came from.  
But why would this guy she would barely call her friend take the right to criticize her actions? "You're not my father, Russel. I'm old enough to be responsible for my own actions, and if I ever need your advice I'll ask, okay?" Plus, he was acting like she wanted to get married to Murdoc, while everything she wanted was an interesting friendship and _maybe_ a little bit of action.

"Ya don't grasp the situation, Camille! This guy ain't treatin' ya right, don'tcha see that?" She would not have expected Russel to raise his voice like that, but what actually made her snort angrily was that he did not even seem very mad. His face had the look of a strict parent trying to put her in her place. And besides the fact that Russel was barely four or five years older than her, that behavior was something she had sworn to herself to never accept again.  
"Can you please _leave me the fuck alone?_ " The second the words left her lips Punk regretted them.

Russel's wide, round shoulders sunk. His face immediately lost all its strictness and was replaced by a look so hurt and disappointed she had to struggle to not apologize right away. Luckily for her pride though, disappointment was another thing she had enough of.  
For a few seconds she stood there, trying to find some other hurtful thing to throw against his face. Then she decided against it and just rushed out of the room, resisting the urge to slam the door behind herself so she would not completely come off as a bitchy teenager.

Although it was probably already too late for that.


End file.
